


A Really Dumb Idea

by Buggy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, I cannot possibly add all of the heroes from Overwatch but I will put in a lot of them, I'll add more character tags as they become relevant, Mild Language, which they will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buggy/pseuds/Buggy
Summary: When Tracer accidentally winds up in 1971 Teufort, her former teammates follow in hopes that they can bring her back. What they didn't count on was getting pulled into a stupid pissing contest with the town's resident mercenaries. Or a wizard summoning most of Talon in an act of vengeance, for that matter. Also Soldier and Demoman try to make each other jealous with their new best friends.





	A Really Dumb Idea

“Well I can't rightly say I know what's wrong with this thing, Miss Pauling. Maybe we could try turning it back on?”

Miss Pauling took off her glasses before grinding the heel of her palm into her forehead. It had been a long day. “Just tell me what you need done Engie.”

RED Engineer pulled back from the crawlspace he’d been investigating. As he stood he tilted his hard hat back from his welding goggles in a habitual gesture. The dark lenses completely obscured his eyes. Miss Pauling didn't know how he could see anything in the dim light of the intelligence room like that, but she didn't say anything. She hadn't been offered this job because she asked questions.

“Well, hit the switch again,” Engie replied with a bemused shake of his head. “I won't screw the panel in yet since I ain’t done nothing to it, but it might’ve been a fluke.”

Miss Pauling replaced her glasses as she looked down at the control panel, specifically at a switch labeled “ALARM SYSTEM ON/OFF”. Gritting her teeth in anticipation, she flipped it into the ON position.

BRINGINGINGINGINGING--!

She hastily shut the power off. Above her the Alarm-O-Tron bell stilled, and the momentarily illuminated INTRUDER ALERT on the giant message board went dark.

“Crap, is that thing still going? It freakin’ wouldn’t shut up all morning while we was getting packed.” A familiar buck-toothed face poked through the nearest doorway. “You sure BLU’s Spy ain’t poking around in here?”

“Yeah, somehow I don't see him trying to infiltrate a base if he's not getting paid for it. And anyways you were the one who volunteered to look for intruders.” Miss Pauling stared up at the silent alarm on the wall, face scrunched slightly in thought. “But like… you guys DID check everywhere really well, right?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Scout strut into the room more fully. She turned to face him. His puffed out chest and attempts to flex his scrawny arms at most available opportunities used to annoy her, but now they hardly registered. He grinned, apparently pleased that she was looking in his general direction.

“Uh, yeah, I looked everywhere, basically single handed. I checked the uh… that front area, with the battlements and stuff, and the sewers, and I’ve been working my way back from there. See, what I do is I swing my bat around so if their spy’s being all invisible I’ll still hit him, and then I know he’s there because he’ll probably yell or something. I’m probably the best at looking for--”

“What about the back stairwell?”

“Huh? I mean. That was next on my list.”

Engineer sighed. “Maybe you ought to check that out before I start messing around with the wiring, dummy.”

Scout rolled his eyes as he slunk toward the back of the room. He disappeared into the shadows, leaving his disembodied voice to echo back toward them.

“There ain't nothing back here, I'm pretty sure. Maybe one of the guys got drunk and showed up out of uniform or HOLY CRAP THAT IS A GHOST!”

Miss Pauling's hand went for her gun on reflex as a red blur shot out of the stairwell. Scout nearly collided with her.

“Hey, Scout, take it easy!” She pried her hand away from the pistol in her pocket with some reluctance. “What did you see?”

Scout swallowed. His eyes looked about ready to start out of his head. “What I freaking said, there's a ghost back there! Like a future ghost!”

“But that doesn't make any sense. It's not even Halloween!”

“Huh.” Engineer frowned at the dark space Scout had vacated, clearly thinking. Then he picked up the shotgun he'd laid on the table. “I'll check it out.”

“What? Engie, I told ya it's a ghost. Do you really think shooting it’s gonna do any good?”

“I ain't met a problem yet that couldn't be solved with the proper application of firepower.” He methodically loaded the gun, expression neutral. “That's how we beat Merasmus each year anyhow.”

“Scout,” Miss Pauling repeated, her voice firm. “What EXACTLY did you see? And don't say a ghost again, I want a description.”

“Uh.” Scout’s gaze darted nervously to the Engineer. “Like. It was all dark, yeah? And then it flickered kinda blue, and I saw a guy standing there. He was all see-through and ghosty, but there was like this light in his chest and these gadgets that looked crazy. So like… I think we might be dealing with a robot ghost. And that sucks because I am about to kill a LOT of robots.”

“That's nice Scout.” Engineer’s voice was pleasant as he shouldered his gun. “You can stay here if you like. I'll let you know when the ghost is dead.”

“Uh, ghosts are already dead genius.”

“Yup.” Engie headed for the stairwell without looking at him. Miss Pauling followed apprehensively. A list of various possible scenarios scrolled through her head, most of which involved Scout being a lying idiot. A few possibilities remained, however, in which the figure he'd seen was real and in fact the reason the alarm had been going off all morning long. It fit together anyhow. The dull throb in her temple intensified. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her afternoon disposing of this intruder’s body. 

“Ah crap, you guys. I mean, I can come too. I ain't afraid of no ghost.”

“Shh!” Miss Pauling shot Scout an annoyed glance before she focused on the stairs ascending in front of them. From over Engineer's shoulder, it looked as though it had been a false alarm. There was nothing but concrete and metal railing. Engineer started to lower his shotgun from the ready, then froze.

A blue light flickered seven steps up. 

“Ma’am?”

“I see it too.” Miss Pauling stepped out from behind him slightly, eyes squinting against the strange light. What…?

A figure, unmistakably the one Scout had described, appeared in front of them like a hologram.

Miss Pauling’s eyes widened in shock. The shape flickered like a faulty light bulb, giving her just enough time between flashes to get an impression of straps, goggles, and spiked hair, all constructed of translucent blue light.

A whoosh and running footfalls told her that Scout had beat a hasty retreat. “FREAKING TOLD YOU!” he yelled from a safe distance.

The shape was beginning to stabilize. An erratic white light pulsated in sync with the figure’s fluctuating outline. Pauling raised a hand against its intensity. The light came from a strange device strapped over their torso which they beat at with a fist, brows drawn. They didn’t seem to have noticed her or Engineer at all.

“What the hell is this?!” Miss Pauling asked, unable to draw her eyes away from the bizarre sight.

“Let’s wait a second,” Engineer said with a calm she did not share, though she could see him raise his gun again in her periphery. “It looks like something’s about to happen.”

Not a second after he’d spoken, a noise like static crackled through the air. The light blazed. There was a thud of matter solidifying on the steps, and quite suddenly the ‘ghost’ was no longer a ghost but a living, breathing human being. The figure stared intently down at the machine strapped to her chest for half a second more before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Well that’s one problem solved.” She looked up at them and grinned with surprising cheer. “Sorry about dropping in like this! It’s not something I do regularly, promise.”

Miss Pauling stepped past Engineer, still trying to piece together what she’d just witnessed. Everything about the woman’s attire screamed “costume” from the spandex leggings to the modified pilot’s jacket to the machine strapped to her chest.

“Um. Who are you?” she asked. “No offense, but you look like you teleported out of a convention or something, and this is a dangerous place for a photoshoot or… whatever you’re doing here.”

The woman giggled, though her expression was quizzical. “You don’t recognize me?” She glanced over Pauling and Engineer to the main room with its enormous blocky computers, and the smile faded. “Oh… this can’t be good. How far back did I go?”

“Back? You mean like back in time, maybe?” Engineer asked, clearly intrigued.

“Exactly, yeah!” She put her hands on her hips and, with a little effort, hitched the smile back into place. “Well either way, you don’t need to worry about me, love. I’ve been in plenty of dangerous situations before, and I’m sure I can find my way out of this one. Once the chronal accelerator stops glitching, that is.”

“So that’s what your doohickey’s called, huh? Chronal accelerator… I like the sound of it.”

Miss Pauling glanced uncomfortably at the Engineer. There was a civilian on the base, and it didn’t matter much if she were a time traveler, a circus performer, or just another lead-poisoned denizen of Teufort. The Administrator had only one protocol in place for dealing with trespassers.

“Hey, Engie? Could you make sure everyone’s packed and ready to go? I can take it from here.”

He frowned as he turned toward Miss Pauling. It was obvious he knew what she meant by ‘take it from here’. “Uh. Yeah. I guess I could do that. Nice meetin’ you, Miss…?”

The stranger lifted a hand in acknowledgement, seemingly oblivious to the change in atmosphere. “Oh you can just call me Tracer. Most do.”

“Right. I’ll see you around Tracer.” He nodded to Miss Pauling before leaving the stairwell. She made a note to save the accelerator for him to look at later. 

Tracer watched him leave, then turned her smile toward Miss Pauling. “Well either way it looks like I might be stuck here for a while. You’ll probably have some questions for me, yeah?”

Pauling nodded. “Yes, actually, I’m glad you brought that-”

“Good! I can answer them now, you can fill out whatever report needs filled out, and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” Tracer pushed her goggles up so they rested on her forehead. “So! First things first! My name is-”

“Wait, wait. I love your enthusiasm but, well.” Miss Pauling smiled, and it felt painful. What was that about? She'd disposed of plenty of witnesses before. “How about this. We’ll walk to my office so I can get the paperwork, and you can tell me on the way. Hang on.” She fished a notepad and a pencil out of her pocket. “See? It’ll make everything easier.”

Tracer nodded, her smile turning slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I tend to get in a rush when there’s an emergency. It’s served me well in the past, but some things can’t really be done that way.” She rubbed the back of her neck and looked up the stairwell pensively. “‘Specially when I don’t exactly know where or when I am.”

“Teufort.”

“What’s that love?” Tracer turned her wide brown eyes back to Miss Pauling. 

She could have kicked herself. Making conversation with a person unassociated with TF Industries while on the clock was a terrible idea, especially when that conversation involved giving out information, widely known or no. And yet here she was, conversing with someone she would likely be feeding through a wood chipper before the day was out.

Miss Pauling removed her glasses and rubbed her forehead. Maybe she’d take her one day off soon. “You’re in Teufort, New Mexico, and it’s 1971.”

“Hold up, nineteen?” Tracer’s jaw dropped, and for the first time worry entered her expression. “How did I go back a hundred years, nevermind zap across the bleeding ocean? Blimey, this is… this is bad.”

“Maybe we can figure that out.” No, stop pretending to help, it isn’t going to make doing this easier. “Engie’s pretty good with machines. He makes teleporters and stuff anyways; maybe you could let him look at your accelerator.” She started walking up the stairs, and Tracer fell in step beside her. Her expression was doubtful.

“That's nice of you to offer, but this is pretty high-tech even for my time. A friend of mine made it, he's absolutely BRILLIANT when it comes to all that science-y stuff.”

“Is he?” Miss Pauling held open the door at the top of the stairs, her manner one of polite interest. Internally she was trying to remember if she had any quicklime left from when she'd taken care of the director.

“Oh yeah, Winston's the best! But this time-manipulation technology is something he's still figuring out. Great as the accelerator is, it sometimes glitches if I put too much strain on it. Ah, that's MUCH better!” 

They stepped out into the blinding sun that filled the courtyard. Tracer reached up to pull her tinted goggles back down over her eyes, and Miss Pauling’s gaze was drawn to the oddly shaped bracers she had on her forearms. What was most interesting were their fin-like protrusions; their seams suggested they were hollow, and Pauling could have sworn she saw a glint of metal from within.

“Are those holsters?” she asked with genuine interest.

“What? Oh yeah, these things! Watch this, it's a neat trick.” Tracer jerked her arms up in a snapping motion. The bracers parted slightly, and a pistol popped out of each before the compartments snapped shut. She caught them deftly and spun them around her fingers by the trigger guards. 

Miss Pauling didn't approve of treating weapons like juggling balls, even if she had seen the mercenaries do much worse. “Are- are those loaded?” she asked with some trepidation.

“Well pulse pistols are basically always loaded. Don't worry your head about it too much. I'm quite good with these ones; never had a misfire, and I only ever shoot if I get shot at first.” Tracer looked a little more intently at Pauling’s face and giggled, mouth quirking in a half smile. “You like guns, don't cha? You're watching these pretty close.”

Miss Pauling felt her face redden as she laughed along with Tracer. “Well yeah, I mean, I have to know a lot about them for my job anyways, so… I don't know, it worked out well. You called those pulse pistols?”

“Mmhm. Guess they don't have these in your time huh?” Tracer held one out for Miss Pauling to look at. “They fire energy rounds instead of metal and get charged up through movement. It’s one reason I took to spinning them ‘round like that. Literally CANNOT go off unless I squeeze the trigger, so they’re a little safer than the old-fashioned mechanical guns.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head as she looked it over. The matte paint job made it look like a very high-end kid’s toy, but the blue glow coming from what she could only imagine was the chamber seemed inexplicably ominous in the best way. Her hand extended to touch it almost of its own accord, her eyes round with interest.

Tracer giggled her amusement. “We could fire off some rounds if you like. You have any shooting ranges around here?”

With an effort of will, Miss Pauling pulled her hand back. She attempted to disguise the movement by pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Um.” Deep breath. They were just guns. “Maybe later. We need to get that paperwork taken care of, remember?”

Tracer tucked the pistols back into their unconventional holsters with a click. “Right, got to focus. It’s better if I get back home as fast as I-” Her smile vanished in an instant, and she slapped her forehead. “BUGGER!”

“What is it?” Miss Pauling frowned, startled by the sudden change in her demeanor.

“Emily, she’s gonna be worried SICK.” Tracer ran a hand through her gravity-defying hair and bit her lip. “It’s our anniversary, and I promised I was gonna be home by six so we could have the evening in together. I can't believe I- wait.” She blinked as the sudden tension in her body dissipated. She laughed. “No, wait. Phew. That’s not how time works, I’m fine.”

Miss Pauling stared at her, completely deadpan.

Tracer noticed and tilted her head. “What’s up?”

“Damn it.” Miss Pauling tucked the pencil and notepad away irritably. “Of course you had to be cute.”

Tracer smiled as though she’d been told a joke that didn’t make sense. “What’s that love? I think I missed something.”

Miss Pauling met her eyes, completely aware of how stupid the choice she was making was. Why couldn’t she have been a terrible person, or at least unlikeable? Now Pauling was putting her neck on the line, and for what?

She took her glasses off and looked down, cleaning them on her skirt. “There’s no paperwork, and we’re going to get you home.”

Tracer wasn’t given much time to think over what this enigmatic statement meant. A blast shook the base, and the sound of gibbering and shouting came from a hall into the courtyard. She jumped, but Pauling just shoved her glasses back on and scowled down at the helmeted man waving up at them both.

“HELLO MISS PAULING AND YELLOW MISS PAULING!”

“Hey Soldier? I need you to…” She trailed off as two people dressed like rejects from an apocalyptic biker bar came up behind him. One was missing a leg and still visibly smoking from whatever explosion they had just heard. The other was so large she almost mistook him for Heavy. His face was covered with a gas mask.

“Soldier. Who is that.”

He grinned gormlessly up at them both, clearly pleased with himself. Out of the corner of her eye, Miss Pauling could see a look of shocked disgust on Tracer’s face. 

“I RECRUITED THEM WHEN I WAS CLEANING OUT MERASMUS’S CRAP FROM THE CASTLE I NOW LEGALLY OWN! THEY ARE MERCENARIES LIKE US, SO I GAVE THEM JOBS!” He jabbed his thumb back at them enthusiastically. “MEET MY NEW BEST FRIENDS, TRASHPILE AND ROADKILL!”


End file.
